Under My Skin
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: "The Darkness doesn't want you, Sam. It wants your body. That dot? It's going to grow. The Darkness will settle into every cell of your being until the part of you that makes you Sam Winchester is wiped from existence." *season 11 speculation, one-shot for now*


_**Author's Note:**_ _Pure season 11 speculation based on the promo. So, I guess_ _ **spoilers for season 11**_ _but this piece will probably be AU by the time season 11 airs. Anyways, I saw the promo and I couldn't help but notice the weird black vein/rash thing Sam has got on his neck. Thus, this was born. I hope you enjoy!_

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" _Don't you know, little fool, you never can win?_

 _Use your mentality, wake up to reality."_

— _Frank Sinatra, "I've Got You Under My Skin"_

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Sam doesn't really know what he's doing here in this small, abandoned church.

Then again, since the Darkness first emerged, he's been acting differently than usual. His mind has become a jumble of disconnected thought and he can never seem to focus on one for than a few seconds before it vanishes into the dark recesses of his mind. But it isn't just his lack of concentration that's been disconcerting—it's his own emotions. Ever since he came in contact with the Darkness, Sam can feel his own heart hardening somehow. He doesn't feel all that guilty for letting the Darkness out. If anything, he feels a weird sense of glee.

Something is wrong with him, seriously wrong, he feels it in his veins.

Maybe that's why, when had spotted the church along the road as they pulled into the motel, that he knew he would have to return to it. The youngest Winchester has never been a true believer in a higher power, but he still has some sort of faith. He likes to believe that bad things happened for a reason, that there is still hope at the end of the day.

The Darkness is ancient—that much he and Dean had been able to deduce. It was sealed away by God himself so many years ago. Sam doubts that there's even any lore on it. He and Dean, they needed help on this one, but Castiel was MIA and Crowley didn't seem to be inclined on answering their summoning spells.

Hence the church.

As Sam sits in the first row of the dusty pew and looks up at the chipped and cracked cross before him, he sighs softly. This is foolish, really. He hadn't even left Dean a note before he just took off in the middle of the night. His brother would be pissed, to say the least. He really does have to go back and—

"So, Sam Winchester." A voice speaks up at the back of the room. "We finally meet again."

Chuck Shurley takes a seat next to him, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. He's dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. A black jacket is tucked under his arms and his hair is a bit askew.

"Chuck?" Sam murmurs and Chuck chuckles somewhat. "What are you—?"

"You were calling for me, weren't you?" Chuck leans back in the pew, relaxed. His eyes shut for a few moments and then open. Glancing at the Winchester beside him, he laughs a bit louder. "C'mon, Sam, can't you figure it out?"

"You're . . . God?" Sam brow furrows as he tries to put the pieces together. The Chuck he had known, he had been a struggling writer lacking confidence and charisma. The man that he sees now; however, is the polar opposite.

"Yeah." Chuck confirms with a nod of his head, smiling broadly.

"You," Sam points to the author. "You are God."

"Yes." Chuck replies clearly.

"But Castiel said you died!" Sam exclaims, running a hand through his hair as he tries to reconcile the fact that Chuck—lazy, disorganized, terrified Chuck—was the all-powerful creator of the universe.

"I did. In a sense." He winks and then stands up. "This place . . . it's been years since I've been here. It used to be a nice congregation." He turns to face Sam. "Funny. Out of all the churches, you pick this one."

"Look, Chuck—" His voice fades as he considers what exactly to call Chuck now. God, right? But God is Chuck, so Chuck would be okay too, wouldn't it?

"Sam, relax." Chuck places a warm hand on his back and chuckles. "You're really overthinking this." He touches the cross and it pieces itself back together. In a flash, the cross is pristine again and Chuck touches it fondly. He faces Sam once more and places his hands on his hips. "So, what did you Winchesters break now?"

"The Darkness is out."

Chuck's face blanches.

"Well . . . fuck." He curses and in another world, Sam would find this conversation insanely surreal. Here God is, swearing. "How'd you manage that?"

"Dean got the Mark of Cain and then he killed Death."

"You two really have been busy, haven't you?" Chuck says, almost chiding. "So, you want me to what? Bail you out?"

"Death said that you had beaten the Darkness once before—"

Chuck sits at the pew once more and shakes his head sadly. When he speaks, his voice is devoid of any and all traces of humor, "Yeah and it nearly destroyed me and all of Heaven."

Sam comes to sit next to him. His voice is pleading as he asks, "But you did it once so couldn't you do it again?"

"It's not that simple." Chuck sighs before turning his attention to a black dot on Sam's neck. He touches it with warm fingers and Sam stiffens as a sudden rush of pain courses through him. Chuck pulls hand back and the pain vanishes. "The Darkness . . . it's marked you Sam."

"Marked me?" The younger brother echoes.

"Damn you Winchesters." Chuck rises from the pew and begins to pace, voice growing more and more agitated by the second. "You two, I swear it's like your one mission is to try and break as many of the laws of the universe as you can!"

Sam touches the mark and grimaces. Facing Chuck, he repeats, "What do you mean, marked me?"

Chuck's gaze drops to the floor. He freezes where he stands and he hesitates before speaking. Finally, he crosses to Sam, eyes clouding with worry.

"Chuck?" Sam tries once more.

"The Darkness is powerful and ancient but it also has a flaw. It needs to concentrate it's power, you know, kind of centralize everything." Chuck sighs, long and deep before continuing. "It needs a host."

The realization plows through Sam like a speeding semi-truck.

"It's picked me to be its host." He concludes.

"After all, you're strong enough to handle that much power. You are Lucifer's vessel, after all." Chuck shrugs.

"Then, I'll just say 'no' to it—"

Chuck shakes his head. Darkly, he adds, "It doesn't want you, Sam. It wants your body." He points to the mark. "That dot? It's going to grow. The Darkness will settle into every cell of your being until the part of you that makes you Sam Winchester is wiped from existence."

"Okay," Sam exhales, trying not to let his racing thoughts and rising panic get the best of him. "How do I stop it?"

Chuck doesn't answer.

"Chuck, is there a way to—?"

"No." The Lord of the Universe answers softly. "Sam, the only way to stop the Darkness is to seal it before it takes you over." Wincing, he tacks on, "And if it does take you over, the only way to stop it would be to kill you. Without a host, the Darkness can't fully use its powers."

"How long until it takes me over?" Sam questions quietly.

"Three months. Maybe more, maybe less." Chuck deduces.

"And what? I'll just wake up one day and try to kill everyone?" The youngest Winchester mocks darkly.

"It's more gradual than that." Chuck answers. Then, glancing knowingly, he states, "But I think you know that. You're already feeling the changes, aren't you?"

Neither of them says anything after that.

Minutes pass, maybe even hours, but Sam still can't bring himself to speak. Here he is, once more, being forced to play a role that he never wanted a part in in the first place. Part of him wants to scream, to cry, and even beat up Chuck. But, another part of him, the part that he's tried to ignore so many times before, whispers dark words of how he's had this coming for years and how it's always been his destiny to be evil.

"Sam?" Chuck finally asks, voice cautious.

"Why me?" Sam interjects. "Dean and I, we've been through more than anyone should ever have to—"

"I know, Sam." Chuck rises from the pew and smiles softly at him. "Look, I'm not going to apologize for everything because the truth is, you and Dean, you're strong enough to endure."

"But enduring is not living!" Sam shouts, his own voice cracking. His mind flashes through all the painful memories of his life—Jessica's death, Dean's deal, break Lucifer out, going to Hell, losing Bobby—and the sorrow that the memories summons is so powerful and all consuming that Sam feels like it might just break him for good this time. What is the point in getting up if his life is just going to be full of misery?

"Sam." Chuck is glowing almost; an ethereal white light seems to surround him. "I know you have a lot of questions, but sometimes, answers do more harm than good." He glances at the door at the back of the church and then nods his head. "Know this though, Sam Winchester," Chuck's voice is loud and echoing through every crevice of the room. His eyes begin to glow. "You are not, nor have you ever been, alone and that will be your saving grace."

And then just like that, Chuck is gone.

"Chuck!" Sam calls, but he knows it's too late, Chuck is gone and he won't be returning.

The door bursts open and Dean comes storming through.

"Sammy!" Dean growls. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you to leave a friggin' note before you go off in the middle of the night?"

He takes in Sam's defeated expression—the downcast eyes, the frown pulling down his lips, the way his shoulders are shaking as the onslaught of tears begins to take control of him.

"Sammy?" He goes to his brother's side, scanning him for any signs of injury. "Sam, what is it?"

"Dean." Sam manages to choke out, voice thick with emotion. He blinks back a few tears and then chuckles wetly. "Dean, you'll never guess what happened."

Dean sits as the story comes out of Sam and by the end of it, the eldest Winchester wants to do nothing more than curl up into a ball and cry. Here he is, once again in danger of losing his little brother. Here he is, once again, facing down impossible odds. When had their lives gone from simply hunting monsters to trying to stop the universe from destroying itself?

"Dean?" Sam finally asks at the end of it.

"90 days, huh?" Dean murmurs.

"Yeah." Sam confirms.

There's silence.

"Okay, then." He plasters a smile on his lips and forces himself to exude confidence.

"Dean?"

He extends a hand out to Sam and grins. "Looks like we've got some work to do."

Sam just hugs him.

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 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Again, pure speculation on my part. Still, I hope you enjoyed it! I may come back a write a few more chapters of this. We'll see. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!_


End file.
